In his cell inside the Valerian Police Department, Roman Torchwick sat in a manner which did not befit his usual arrogant self. He was sitting cross-legged, one on top of the other, in a meditating position, a frown evident on his face. He did not like being beaten up by a guy in a Spandex, shooting spider webs. It made him feel weak, depraved even, that he was almost afraid of that thing.
Roman Torchwick, an orphan abandoned by his father the late Norman Torchwick, raised inside the dirtiest, most dusty room as a baby by a matron who hated his guts. He had to admit, that there was something wrong with him as a child. Something one of the smarter kids identified as personalitydisorder, he was given the flogging of his life for beating up that kid. He couldn't help it, he hated that word. He also hated it when bullies came to pick on him, it made him feel weak. So he did everything in his power to make sure they stay away from him.
He threw fire dust, nicked from a nearby shop, into the toilet from where they were throwing wet papers at him. One of the kids had grabbed him by the collar, and Roman let go a firecracker in his bed. His reaction...priceless! In Christmas, a particular burly kid named Carver Winchester was shoving him around whilst taunting him to fight back. He beat him up with the matron's walking stick, to the point where most of his ribs were shattered. Ironically enough, the cane was shaped like those Christmas Candy canes, like the one he wielded.
That was the last straw, and Roman was thrown out of the orphanage. But even then, he continued his misdeeds. Although instead of outright violence, he resorted to lying, stealing and cheating. The essential ways for a petty criminal to survive.
Eventually, there was no trace of his past, childhood self despite the random urges for bombings. Not until he was beaten by a certain Spider-themed vigilante.
Now that thing was back with a vengeance, and he hated it. It kept bugging him, making him go into weird moods where he just laughed insanely or smashed his fists into a nearby wall, cracking it. He was pretty sure many miniature craters the size of his fists had riddled the walls by now.
Now, Roman was feeling tired dealing with that violent part of him. It gave him a splitting headache, and he was suddenly feeling anxious. He had half a mind of shouting for help at this stage.
???: Not that it will ever work. Roman: Wha-? Whose there?!! ???: Nothing *chuckles*. It's all in your head.
Suddenly, the voice shrieks with laughter.
Roman: I am losing my bottle (nerve) over a fight with a spider. I better get some sleep. ???: Not that it will help you become any more stronger! This time the voice hissed with a venomous intent. Ignoring it, Roman decided to close his eyes....ONE....LAST.....TIME....
...
With an oof, Roman landed inside a tombstone, right into the open arms of a laughing skeleton. Shrieking with disgust and fear, he wrenched himself away from the laughing remains of a corpse, to see that he was fighting nothing but mud.
Getting up from the human-sized hole, he proceeded to walk towards the tallest structure there, as if on impulse. Like a moth towards a candlelight.
He did not expect a leering statue of a man, it's sheer size reaching the depths of the sky. However, he could not make out his appearance as his head was shrouded by darkness.
???: Maybe it's because he doesn't have one. Fear gripped him tight, as only his head moved towards the source of the deep, commanding voice. He was shocked out of Remnant at the sight of the familiar face, or in this case, the head.
It did not take a detective to point out the obvious similarities between Roman and his father. Norman had brown hair instead of orange, and his face was wrinkled due to age, but he was believed to be dead. So how....?
Roman: Da- Norman: DON'T YOU DARE CALL ME THAT, CHILD! He shuddered at the venomous tone. Forgetting almost immediately that it's the same father who had abandoned him at birth.
Norman: You are weak, pitiful, the very opposite of what I expected of your heritage! Your mother's belief was misplaced, you have no right to call yourself our son! You shameless beggar, your very existence has tarnished my reputation!
With those harsh words, Norman's head was suddenly lit by an unholy red flame, as the head began screaming.
Norman: YOUR A DISGRACE! IT WAS A MISTAKE FOR YOUR MOTHER TO CONCEIVE YOU!!!! YOU ARE NO HUMAN, YOUR A WEAK CREATURE WHO COULDN'T EVEN SAAAAAVEEE USSSSS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
With that his screamed turned to torturous shrieks, as the whole scene fucked with Roman's head. I am not gonna sugarcoat it, but he does deserve it.
Roman: B-b-b-bu..... Tears of fear and sorrow escaped Roman's eyes, he had, for once, lost the will to resist.
Clutching his head, he let out a terrible scream. He felt his vocal cords tighten painfully, his throat trying to resist it, but he couldn't stop. Even if blood escaped his gaping mouth he couldn't. He wanted to continue until he escaped this horrid reality, where everything started to burn around him, or had wound up dead trying. Only this time, the fires stop. Torchwick found himself being hung by an invisible string, and was pulled out of a dark pool of water. He watched, with bated breath, as the pool began to rotate until it was facing him. It then became a mirror, and in it he saw a horrifying reflection.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
(Imagine Orange hair instead)
Slowly he reached out toward the reflection with a horrified look, as did his reflection. Yet when his hand touched the mirror, there was nothing in there. Instead, the mirror broke apart as a hand seized Roman's throat. As it began choking the criminal, he heard faintly as the choker broke into mad shrieks of laughter. It was enjoying itself, as Roman Torchwick was struggling to get the hand off of him. The struggles became fainter and fainter and fainter until he was no more.
...
???: What the hell is he doing? ???: We really found him like this, Officer Morales.
Inside his cell, the door was open as two police officers surrounded Torchwick, who was strangling himself on the ground whilst laughing in a ridiculously high pitch.
???: You think we should bring in psycho control? Morales: No need, Maxson. He's stopped his madness. Let's get out, I need to get to my son and wife fast or else they are gonna be mad at me...again. Maxson: Heh. You sure have your hands full these days. Morales: Don't worry, mate. We will hang out too in the weekends, drinks are on me.
As they went off talking amongst themselves, locking the door behind them, Torchwick burst into an insane fit of laughter as his body began to glow.
